


Monty Hall

by Unforth



Series: Kinktober 2020 [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - It's a Terrible Life (Supernatural), Blood Kink, Consensual Non-Consent, Demon Deals, Demon Dean Winchester, Demon Summoning, Incubus Dean Winchester, Kink Negotiation, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Knifeplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26993164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: There are things that Dean simply can't get in his oh-so-proper life, and so he summons a demon to help him.And the demon that appears? Looksjust like him.Dean's not sure what's going on, but he's positive his life is about to get way more interesting...and satisfying.Kinktober Day 9:pegging or emetophilia orClone sex/self-cest
Relationships: Dean Smith/Dean Winchester
Series: Kinktober 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947886
Comments: 20
Kudos: 42
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	Monty Hall

**Author's Note:**

> This is a really hard fic to tag for, sigh. The most important thing to know is that this fic is just the negotiation of what kind of relationship Dean Smith is gonna have with demon Dean...and, well, that's kinda dark. idek how to describe it. Oh well. At least it's written, lol, I'm kinda fried today. Like, if I was going to give a synopsis with spoilers, it'd be, "the fic where Dean Smith summons demon Dean Winchester because he wants a demon to sexually destroy his lily white ass." But the actual destroying part is off camera, this is just them meeting and reaching a mutual understanding about ass wrecking. So, uh, if that appeals, read on, and if not, move on. <3
> 
> Written for Kinktober 2020. You can see the full Kinktober prompt list here: <https://twitter.com/kinktober2020/status/1292137619640459272?s=20>.
> 
> You can see my planned out list here: <https://unforth.tumblr.com/post/630614210701819904/alrightgiven-how-ive-felt-in-september-i-dont>. 
> 
> Unedited.

A ring of red light boomed through Dean’s room like an explosion, throwing him back, slamming him into a wall. Dazed, a raised a hand to see what had happened. He  _ thought _ he’d done everything right: drawn every line precisely as it was shown in the book, recited the spell word for word with perfect diction and pronunciation, assembled only the highest quality components and ingredients. Nothing in his preparatory research suggested there should have been an explosion. His usually neat, organized, minimalist living room looked like it had been hit by a tornado. His white leather couch was overturned. His flatscreen TV was criss-crossed by jagged shatter lines. His modern glass coffee table had been reduced to a mound of shards on the floor. And where he’d moved his white shag rug aside so he could paint the spell directly onto the floor, there was…

...there was a man.

There was...himself??

Purely in regards to features, Dean could have been looking in a mirror, but the man...the  _ creature _ ...standing before him, encircled by the complex summoning symbol Dean had replicated, was weird beyond anything the most bizarre funhouse mirror could have produced. Dean was dressed in dress slacks and a button up shirt - even on his day off, even when his day’s agenda ran, “1. Eat breakfast, 2. Attend yoga. 3. Buy quinoa. 4. Brew summoning paint. 5. Summon demon. 6. ???” The other him was dressed in baggy jeans and a flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up to show a check mark shaped scar, and his expression was twisted by a leer.

“Howdy, mighty and sinister dumbass who hath summoned my pert ass. What can I do you for?” The man even sounded like a parody of Dean, his voice raspy and deep. He needed one of Dean’s kombucha teas with honey stat. Their eyes met. The thing blinked, and when his lids opened again, his eyes were solid black.

When Dean found this spell, and decided to use it, and gathered the components, he had no idea what he’d expected to happen.

No - scratch that - he’d expected  _ absolutely nothing  _ to happen, because magic wasn’t fucking real and definitely had no place in Dean Smith’s life. But there  _ were  _ things he wanted, and those niggling senses he periodically had that this wasn’t who he was supposed to be - the memories that sometimes materialized within himself and that Sam from tech support swore up and down were some past life mirror universe nonsense - had led him to think that somewhere out there, them were other versions of himself. 

A ghost hunter.

A post-apocalyptic camp leader.

An angel.

And…

“You’re a demon,” Dean whispered. “A demon...me.”

“Wow, you are an even bigger idiot than you look like...and that’s saying something, since you look like me, but douchier.”

“I summoned you,” replied Dean breathlessly. “You have to obey me.”

“Aw, who told baby summoner that’s how this works?” The demon drew a jagged knife from his belt, strode confidently to the edge of the painted circle, and lounged like he hadn’t a care in the world, picking who-knew-what from beneath his nails with the knife’s tip. “Cause boy howdy are you in waaaay over your pretty little head.”

“I…” Dean swallowed. “I’m not. He had done his homework. He’d researched this as meticulously as he researched a new market opportunity, or a business competitor, or an investment plan. There were rules for interacting with demons. They’d lie and cheat and steal, squirm and deliberately misinterpret and obfuscate, but they  _ were  _ bound to the one who summoned them, provided no mistakes were made.

Dean  _ never  _ made mistakes, and he knew  _ exactly  _ what he was doing, and why he was doing it.

“Are you shaking? You’re  _ shaking _ . That’s...that’s  _ adorable _ .”

“If you want me to believe you, prove it. Come out of the circle.”

“Naw, don’t wanna.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Bullshit,” the demon snorted. “You’re just not worth effort.”

“You’re not an incubus,” Dean said steadily, confidence increasing. “But there’s no such thing as an incubus, not really. There are just demons who like to have sex and no compunction about raping mortals when they sleep.”

“What is this, occultism 101? Quit wasting by time - and what time you have left.”

“I want you to be my incubus,” said Dean.

“You think I’m a demon who likes sex enough to fuck sleeping people at your command?” The demon yawned, rolled his eyes, and twirled the knife around so he could pick at his other hand. “When I saw you there, standin’ and lookin’ so much like...well...you know... _ me _ ...I thought this might be something actually interesting. But honestly, that is so prosaic and lame that I’m ashamed of...me.”

“Who said anything about other people?” sniffed Dean. Straightening his shirt, he walked to the edge of the summoning binding line and stared himself dead in the eye. Though the demon maintained the illusion of nonchalance, his gaze flitted to Dean, then back to his knife, then back to Dean, then back to his hand as he held it out and examined his handiwork, then back to Dean. “If this business relationship is going to work, we’ll need to unclog your ears, and don’t think I’m ignorant of  _ all  _ the terms under which I summoned you, and to which you agreed by appearing here. I’m not just some...schmo...who found a mystic book and got sauced and made a bad choice. I know what I’m doing.”

The demon barked a laugh. “If your goal was to convince me you weren’t a schmo...you failed the fucking moment you used that word. Who the fuck does that?”

“Dean.”

“Yeah, Dean?”

“I want  _ you  _ to be  _ my  _ incubus,” Dean repeated forcefully.

“...alright, Alex, I’d like to buy a vowel, and a clue. Spill it - the fuck are you on about?”

“Pat Sajdak hosts Wheel of Fortune, not Alex Trebeck. And I’m neither; right now, just call me Monty Hall.”

“Is this your attempt to convince me you’re  _ not  _ a schmo??”

_ This is it...last chance to back out… _

_...no. I’ve got a demon version of myself literally standing in my living room. It’s way too late to back out, and besides, I don’t want to. The absolute worst thing that happens is he kills me and I go to hell...and everyone dies sometimes, and I’ve been a corporate shill long enough to have no illusions about my future consigned to the pit. And the best thing that happens is I get everything I’ve ever wanted. _

_ I’ve been involved in a whole lot of deals in my times, and I know a good one when I hear it. _

“You will be an incubus. And I will be your victim. And other than that, I don’t care  _ what  _ you do with your time - as long as you give me what I need.”

“Whoa...hold the fuck up...are you serious?” asked the demon, seeming actually interested for the first time since he arrived. He dropped the hand he’d been cleaning and waggled the knife at Dean like a questioning finger.

“Do I  _ look  _ serious to you?” asked Dean, drawing himself up to his full height, planting his feet, squaring his shoulders, and projecting utmost confidence.

“Dumb question. You look like a schmo.”

“You said only schmos use the word schmo.”

“Fair point, schmo. So lemme get this straight - or rather, lemme get this ass-fucking queer - you want me to visit you when you sleep and fuck you senseless?”

“That’s not all incubi are known for.”

“Oh, I know what incubi are known for - energy drain, blood drinking, rape, face fucking, if it’s rough and morally questionable and non-consensual, I’ve never met the incubus who’d say no.”

Oh...oh, but everything the demon said sounded  _ perfect _ . He had been straight-laced, hard-working, and oh-so-good, oh-so-fine, oh-so-healthy, well respected and conservative, his entire life, and it was boring as shit, and he’d  _ never  _ gotten what he truly craved out of a partner.

He needed to be abused.

He needed to be degraded.

He needed to be cut.

He needed to be debased.

He needed to be humiliated.

He needed to scream in pain.

He needed to beg his partner to stop only for them to ignore him.

BDSM couldn’t give him what he needed. He’d tried.

But an incubus?

“So...Dean...may I call you Dean?” 

“You can call me master,” leered the demon.

“Dean. I’m offering you all the rough, morally questionable, consensual non-consensual sex your little demon heart could desre. Are  _ you  _ saying no?” asked Dean, 

Reaching out, the demon stopped with a hand just shy of the outer edge of the spell. The tip of the knife extended beyond it, inanimate and therefore unaffected, and with a single slick  _ shink _ the demon cut open the front of Dean’s shirt and cut a single thin, stinging line from his belly to his neck. 

Fucking.

Perfect.

It was all Dean could do not to shiver and moan. 

“You’re not going to like it,” whispered the demon, voice deep as sin, confident as hell, sultry and cruel.

“ ‘Bout time you stop thinking you know  _ jack shit _ about me, and what I want, and what I like,” Dean replied. His voice was also deep as sin, and also confident as hell, and edged with need and anticipation.

The demon laughed. “Ya know...you’re a schmo...but I think I like you.”

“I’m thrilled,” Dean deadpanned.

“Fine. You’ve got yourself a deal,” said the demon with a grin. “Shit’s about to get way interesting.”

A shiver went down Dean’s spine, and he stretched out a toe to break a single line of the binding spell to give the creature the freedom it yearned for...

...the freedom they  _ both  _ yearned for.

“Good, Dean. I’m counting on it.”

**Author's Note:**

> And that's day 9! I have more writing time on Wednesdays, so I'm going to try to get two fills done tomorrow. The first is Untamed - somnophilia with either Wangxian or Xicheng (I haven't actually decided which yet, I need to let it drift in my head a bit and see what catches my fancy). The second is temperature play with Viktuuri (Yuri on Ice). I will definitely do the somnophilia one tomorrow...the other, well, time will tell.
> 
> Check me out on social media!  
> Tumblr: [unforth](https://unforth.tumblr.com/) (very multifandom with a decent amount of politics/social justice)  
> Twitter: [unforth](https://twitter.com/unforth) (mostly MDZS/CQL, with a splash of multifandom and also a decent amount of politics/social justice, cause sorry, them's the times)  
> Discord: unforth#6748


End file.
